


Hold Your Breath, It Gets Better

by iknowhowyoukiss



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Captain Wench, F/M, cs au week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7516781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iknowhowyoukiss/pseuds/iknowhowyoukiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breaking the rules of time travel leaves Emma Swan unexpectedly trapped in the Enchanted Forest with nothing but her wits, her magic, and a pirate captain she had previously deceived to get her by. Running on borrowed time, Emma and Hook must work together to get her home before she inadvertently alters his future. (Captain Wench Canon Divergence AU from 3x23)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A little behind for Day 2 of AU Week, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

She is groggy and disoriented when she wakes, head lolling up from where her chin had been resting down against her chest. Her whole body aches too, especially just at the base of her skull, and she’s finding it difficult to string her thoughts together. She knows she’s sitting, but she can’t quite figure out why. She knows her arms feel numb, like pins and needles prickling at her skin, but again, she hasn’t a clue _why_.

The room is dim, and she squints against the lack of light, trying to bring her surroundings into focus. It’s all wood and close quarters, a familiar rocking beneath her feet and- oh no.

Oh god.

 _Oh no_.

Her body jerks reflexively at the sudden knowledge of where she is, and to her surprise and complete horror, she realizes that her limited mobility is due to the restraints around her. It’s instinctive to fight against the bonds, to attempt to free herself, but an amused chuckle makes her go completely still. Her gaze snaps to her left and towards a dark corner where the sound had come from, mouth going slack when Killian- _Captain Hook_ emerges from the shadows.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s finally awake. Good evening, love.”

It all rushes back to her then -- the revival of her magic with Killian’s help. Opening the portal with the wand. Jumping in right behind him and unconscious Jane Doe. Being suspended in the air one second, bracing for the fall through the swirling vortex of magic, then abruptly coming down hard on the stone ground in the next. It should have worked. She should have been able to go through with them. Instead, the portal had closed before she could, leaving her _here --_ still stuck in the past, still risking the future. Only this time, she’s all alone.

With a very grumpy looking Captain Hook, no less.

Emma swallows thickly and manages to piece together a few of the events that had transpired between escaping from Rumple’s castle and ending up back on the Jolly Roger. She’d lost the wand, most likely to the portal, so she hadn’t been able to use it to attempt to open another one, and there was nothing for her in Rumple’s treasure chest of unpredictable magic that would help. At least, nothing she knew how to use, and she’d rather not deal with any of the risk or consequence that came with utilizing magic she wasn’t familiar with.

She was just barely getting the hang of her own.

Asking for Rumple’s help again had been completely out of the question, since he’d already taken a memory-affecting potion to forget them before trapping her and Killian in some obscure location within the castle walls. She would just have to make do with what she had available at her disposal: herself.

She’d used her magic to poof safely outside, then taken great care to alter her wardrobe back to the bar wench outfit. Killian’s previous warnings about drawing attention to herself with her unfashionable red leather jacket had come to mind, and she’d made it a point to blend in with the times. She’d gone back to the tavern when she was satisfied with her appearance, taking the longest, most discreet path she knew to avoid being seen. There had been nowhere else for her to go, and she’d needed a place to formulate a game plan (and brood), but three hours and three drinks later, she was still as lost as she had been when she’d first arrived. The difference was that she no longer wished to be.

She wanted to be with her family. She wanted to go _home_.

The only place she could think to start, was trying to acquire something that would open a portal, like a magic bean, or another wand -- _a miracle --_ and then she could get to work on recreating Zelena’s time travel spell. It should be easy enough, all she needed was a symbol of wisdom, courage, love and innocence; she'd always considered herself rather resourceful when it came to finding people, things should be no different.

It had been late by the time she’d left the tavern, and she’d intended to look for some lodging just for the night, walking along the dirt road and keeping to the dimmer parts, as she made her way towards an inn type of place she’d seen coming back into town. But then everything had gone black, and judging by her current predicament, she imagines that that’s Hook’s doing.

“Ki- Hook-” she catches herself, only to be interrupted by him.

“Imagine my disappointment having woken up on the floor of my cabin, instead of in my bed with that delightful bar wench I’d met at the tavern.” He sits himself down in the chair across from her, leaning back, slouched low with his legs spread and his elbow propped on the armrest, hand gesturing lazily in the air at nothing in particular. “Imagine my surprise to discover that I’d acquired some unsightly, mysterious bruising on my jaw.”

Her eyes flicker to the darkening purple mark marring the left side of his face, and her stomach swoops as she recalls the way Killian had punched him -- _himself_ \-- out so that they could escape from the Jolly Roger.

“I spent most of the day searching for you, sent my men to every establishment in town and three of the neighboring villages to find you. When the search had come up fruitless, I was forced to believe that I’d simply over-indulged in rum the previous night and had conjured you in my head -- I do have a rather vivid imagination, you see. But then you’d made the mistake of returning to the tavern, where two of my crew recognized you, and now, here you are...quite real, I might add.”

Emma swallows thickly, unsure of what to say as his eyes harden and he pins her with a distrusting look. “Hook, please. You have to listen to me-”

“Uh, uh, uh,” he cuts her off again, rising to his feet to stalk across the room and stand before her. “Bad form, love. Where are your manners?”

Her mouth closes at that and she presses her lips together while she stares at him. It’s the pirate before her now -- menacing, dangerous, arrogant -- not the man beneath that she’d come to know over drinks just the night before, the man so like the one she’s actually _known_ for the past year. He has no more soft words for her or soft looks for that matter.

“Now, let me explain how this is going to work. You’re going to tell me everything I want to know. Starting with...who are you? And I would warn you to choose your words carefully, lass, because you best hope I believe them.”

She’s so screwed.

 _Even the smallest of changes could have catastrophic consequences_.

That’s what he’d told her when they’d first landed in the Enchanted Forest just days before. She can’t reveal too much, especially about, well, _him_ because she would be endangering _her_ Killian- well, not ‘hers,’ just... _present_ Kil- oh, _whatever_. Thank goodness she doesn’t have to deal with them in the same room anymore. Either way she is _not_ willing to risk disrupting his future and accidentally affecting the course and outcome of his story. But then, on the other hand, she can’t lie to him because he’ll see right through her. So she opts to stick as close to the truth as she can, she’ll just completely leave him -- future him- _whatever_ \-- out of it.

“They call me ‘The Savior-’”

“I’ve never heard of a such a person.”

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

His eyes flash with amusement, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. He nods once, signaling for her to continue.

“I’m the...‘bringer of Happy Endings,’ at least, that’s what they call me, and before you interrupt me to say you’ve never heard _that_ either, I’ll save you the trouble and tell you it’s because that particular legend hasn’t been created yet-”

“Of course it hasn’t. How convenient.”

She glares at him, watching his brow quirk and his head cant to the side. “I haven’t been _born_ yet,” she snaps. “Whatever prophecy I’m supposed to fulfill is still in its preliminary stages-”

That gives him pause, eyes narrowing together as he tries to comprehend the near-impossible thought she’s dropped in his lap. “Wait a moment, what exactly are you saying? That you’re-”

“From the future? Yeah.” She huffs at his skeptical look. “Look, I know I sound crazy, and I know that you have no reason to believe me, but...it’s true.”

His tongue pokes into his cheek, and she can tell by the look on his face that he hasn’t decided if he should trust her or not.

“Hook-”

“You know...I quite fancy you from time to time, when you’re not lying to me-”

“But I’m _not_ lying-”

“Lying by omission is still a lie, darling, but I’ll tell you what. I’ll leave you down here for a little while, allow you some time to gather your wits -- seeing as how you’ve had a rather taxing day -- and when I return...we’ll try again.” His suspicious eyes stare at her while he eases backwards towards the steps. “Oh, and I wouldn’t bother attempting to escape, you’ll find very few places to hide, and even fewer people who would be willing to help you.”

Emma begins pulling on her restraints, frustration making her control snap. He’s being ridiculous and she doesn’t have time for it. “Wait! Hook! Wait a minute! Please!”

He turns then, with all of that arrogant, insufferable pirate swagger he’d had when she’d first met him, and she can’t help but roll her eyes when she notes his smirk tugging up the corners of his lips before he descends up the stairs. The last thing she hears is the resounding thump of the hatch being closed.

\-----

“I don’t bloody _know_ what happened!” Killian runs an agitated hand through his hair, pacing restlessly as his eyes flicker to the book and back to her father’s. Her mother’s. Her son’s. “One minute she was opening the portal and we were leaping through, and the next, I was landing in Storybrooke with the Lady Marian and Emma-” His throat closes up at the memory, stomach twisting into tormented knots. “Emma was nowhere in sight.”

“But that makes no sense,” David argues again, gently rocking the baby in his arms. “If she jumped through, she should have come back with you. You can’t go to two different places in one portal.”

“Wait a second,” Henry speaks up, brows pinched together as if trying to solve the most elaborate of puzzles. His eyes go wide with sudden realization. “Maybe it’s not so much that she went to a different place, maybe it’s that the portal _closed_ before she could even go through it.”

There’s an excited energy about him, near-frantic as he clambers off the stool he’s sitting on to cross the room and reach for the book resting in Killian’s satchel by the couch.

“Henry?” Snow asks. “What is it?”

He brings it back to the table, opening it and beginning to flip through the pages. “Hook, you said you came back with Marian, right?”

“Aye,” he nods, not sure where Henry’s train of thought is heading.

“So, I don’t know if any of you have seen this in the book, but there was a time where my mom -- the other one -- took Jefferson with her to Wonderland through one of the doors in his magic hat.”

“Who’s Jefferson?” Killian wonders. “And what the bloody hell does a hat have to do with Emma?”

“The Mad Hatter! Grace’s dad. The hat had a bunch of portals to all these different lands-”

“Well, that’s perfect. We don’t need that many of them to get to Emma, lad, just one.”

“Well, it would have been perfect...” Henry scrunches his nose, glancing up David. “If it hadn’t been destroyed.”

At David’s heavy sigh, Killian glances over at him, but the Prince merely shakes his head. “Long story.”

 _Bollocks_. “Alright, if we can’t use the hat,” Killian says, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose to relieve the headache building behind his eyes and the crushing disappointment he feels at the news. He should have known that having access to such an item would be too easy. “Then why is it important?”

“The hat had a rule about using the doors,” Henry explains. “Only as many people that go in can come back. No more, no less.”

Snow steps up to the table, resting her hands on Henry’s shoulder as she glances down at the page. “And you think the time portal works the same way.”

“You think Emma’s stuck in the past because I went in ahead of her through the portal with Marian and she hadn't been allowed to pass.” Killian’s voice is quiet, full of guilt and regret. He is surprised to feel a comforting hand on his arm, even more surprised to see Snow offering him a sympathetic smile.

“Not your fault,” she says. “You couldn’t have known. We’ll find a way to bring her back.”

He doesn’t reply but he nods, heart squeezing in his chest, and desperately hopes Snow is right.

“Wait a minute,” David speaks up, also joining them at the table. “I’ve just had a thought. If the events of the book are as they were, would it stand to reason that Emma and Hook, are now part of the stories as well?”

“Maybe. Why do you ask, Gramps?”

“I’m just wondering...if Hook is _here_ , and Emma _isn’t_ , but she’s still in the book, does that mean that her story is still being written? As in, in real time, and we’d be able to at least figure out where she is and keep tabs on her?”

“Gramps, that’s brilliant!”

“Yeah, well, I have my moments, kid,” he chuckles.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Henry replies, picking up where he left off and turning through chunks of pages as all eyes turn to the book.

“Henry, wait!” Snow cries, reaching out to stop him with her hand around his wrist.

She’d made him stop on an image Killian will forever hold in his memories -- he and Emma dancing at Midas’ ball. They were in the book now, he and his cynical, disbelieving princess. A soft, affectionate smile pulls up the corners of his lips.

“Oh,” Snow breathes, one hand on her chest and the other pressed over her mouth. “David, look at her. She looks so beautiful.”

David places his arm around Snow’s shoulders, drawing her in so he can kiss at her temple. His eyes flicker back down to the illustration and his brow abruptly furrows as he leans forward to get a closer look.

“Hang on. I recognize that coat-” He goes completely still, eyes glazing over with a far-off look as he searches his mind for a specific memory. Killian knows the moment it dawns on him -- a quest to save a princess, a fireside chat.

_I’m not so sure her parents approve of me._

_Given the lengths you’ve gone to, to save her, they’d be crazy not to._

_I hope you remember that._

David’s gaze lands on him and Killian’s cheeks flame hot as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“ _You’re_ Prince Charles.”

“Aye, guilty I’m afraid.”

“ _Son of a_ -”

“ _David!_ Language! And now is _not_ the time,” Snow remarks, shooting him a glaring look. 

Henry snorts at that, quickly moving past that section of the book to get near the end, closest to where Emma would be. There’s another full page, color image he pauses on -- this time of Emma with Captain Hook in a scene Killian doesn’t recognize. Emma looks to be restrained, a pleading look on her face, and it's like a fist to his stomach.

“It’s definitely writing her story in real time,” Henry says. “She’s with Hook. She's asking for his help.”

“ _Hook_?” David practically shouts.

Killian winces, nose scrunching as he glances at David again.

Snow swats him on the shoulder, taking the young prince from his father. “Stop that, you’ll wake the baby!”

David gives an exasperated huff, grumbling under his breath as he moves away from the table and stalks towards the kitchen.

“David,” Snow sighs. “What are you doing?”

“Making coffee.”

“ _Now_? For what?”

“Killian and I are going to keep watch on the book overnight.”

“Oh,” Snow says.

“We are?” Killian asks.

“Yep,” David replies, without so much as a glance back. “And you better hope that book doesn’t start magically reporting any inappropriate behavior towards my daughter.”

As if he needed the warning. He’s worried enough on his own about the company Emma keeps, and he certainly wasn’t intending on getting any sleep that night, not with the ending of the tale so unclear. Not without figuring out a way to get Emma back. Not while he’s concerned about the fact that she’s stranded with past _him,_ and that she’s defenseless against his charms. (Worse, that Hook is defenseless against hers. But that’s nothing new.)

\-----

It takes Emma about thirty seconds after he’s gone before she remembers that she has her magic again, and can probably make the ropes disappear with a mere thought. It takes even less for her to come to the conclusion that getting free by using her magic won’t get her the results she wants. It would just be another thing she’ll have to explain, another thing she’ll have to lie to him about, then he _really_ won’t help her.

She has to play it straight.

When he returns, Emma’s throat is raw from screaming at him from below deck, and she’s rubbed rope burns into her skin from ‘attempting’ to get free. It would look suspicious if she weren’t, so she’d played the part of angry and distressed prisoner.

Hook grabs a chair, placing it in front of her, and turning it around to straddle so that he can drape his arms across the top of the back and lay his chin on his arms while he studies her.

“Hook, please,” she pleads, adding an extra tremor to her voice. “Please, you don’t understand. I can’t- I can’t stay here.”

“Then tell me the truth.”

“I _am_ telling you the truth! I’m the product of True Love-”

“Do you realize how ridiculous-”

“Yes!” she interrupts. “Yes, I do! Believe me, I do-”

“You know what sounds like a far better alternative? Perhaps that blasted crocodile sent you. As a distraction, to deter me from my plans. To keep me off the path of revenge. Or perhaps,” he muses, contemplating her with stormy eyes. “He’s sent you to kill me.”

Emma shakes her head at him. “Then why haven’t I done it already?”

“Perhaps you’re merely biding your time.”

“You have to believe me. He didn’t _send_ me, _nobody sent me_. I fell through a time portal and ended up here by mistake, I’m just trying to get back before my being here causes too much damage to the present timeline. You have to let me go. _Please_.”

He stares at her for a long time -- gaze flitting across her face before holding hers. “You’re in no position to be making demands of me,” he says quietly. “Besides, the last time I involved myself with you, the only thing I had to show for it was a headache and an aching jaw.”

She rolls her eyes at that. “If I don’t get back to my time, there’s a lot more at stake than just your bruised ego.”

“ _Oooh_ ,” he chuckles. “You are a spitfire, aren’t you?”

“Look, I _know_ that deep down, you’re a good man. You have honor, you live by a code-”

“I fear you have me mistaken for someone else, darling.”

Something flickers across his face though, making his eyes go dark and his mouth set in a thin line as he presses his lips together. She’s found her opening -- touching a nerve exactly like she’d set out to do, appealing to the man hidden beneath all of Captain Hook’s bravado.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I don’t-”

“I’m nothing but a pirate, the worst kind of scoundrel. I don’t just help people out of the goodness of my heart, no matter how pretty.”

The corners of her mouth twitch and threaten to break into a smile. “You mean my endless gratitude wouldn't be enough? Knowing that you helped someone? Knowing you did the right thing and that you kept the continuum of the past in order, so that you could protect the future.”

“The only future I want, is one that includes the Dark One’s heart, skewered on my hook.” His eyes narrow, face twisting into a hard expression. “So unless you can ensure that, then I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

She swallows thickly, thinking of the rivalry he would give up to help her get to Neverland to find her son. She thinks of their kiss, of their goodbye at the town line and the year spent apart, of how he'd come to New York to bring her home. Her answer almost gets stuck in her throat.

“It’s not my job to determine the outcome of someone’s Happy Ending, just that they have a chance of having one. So if you want that chance, you have to help me.”

They stare at each other for what feels like an infinite amount of time, like they’re having a million conversations without any spoken words between them. There’s a lump of anxiety lodged beneath her breastbone -- stress over his decision, nerves over the intensity of his stare.

Finally, he moves, rising from his seat and crossing the space between them to step behind her chair and make quick work of the rope. When he’s finished, he makes for the ladder.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“To give my men a new course.”

“Oh.”

“ _Oh_ ,” he agrees.

“So you’ll do it, you’ll help me?”

“I’m bloody going up there, aren’t I?”

She presses her lips together, hands alternating rubbing the soreness from each of her wrists while she stares at his back. “Where exactly are we headed?”

“If it’s a portal you’re in need of, we’ve to acquire something to open it -- a magic bean.”

“Those aren’t easy to come by,” she mutters.

“Not unless you have something of value to trade,” he agrees, pausing to glance over his shoulder at her. “So we’re not going to trade for one. We’re going to steal it.”

There’s a strange little thrill at his words as she’s reminded of the first time they had teamed up in the Enchanted Forest over a year ago. It was a different time then, but history seems to have a way of repeating itself -- another adventure, another foe to face, another item to procure to help get them to Storybrooke. 

“I don’t know that it will work across time, but it’s a good place to start,” he continues, sharing her exact sentiments from earlier that evening.

It dawns on her suddenly that she'll have to leave him again too, just like she did then. She ignores the little ache in her chest. “That still doesn’t answer where we’re going.”

His smile blooms then, mischievous and absolutely disarming. “Tell me, love. Have you ever been to Agrabah?”

_Fin_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding an extra chapter because I don't know how to shut up LOL Xx

He gives her a salve for the rope burns on her wrists when he returns from above deck, reaching up to scratch behind his ear when she takes the tin from him. “There’s a bit of magic in it,” he explains. “It should accelerate the healing process.”

She says nothing, fingertips of her other hand smoothing over the cold metal before removing the lid. She could easily heal the scrapes on her own, but not without drawing attention to herself and revealing her magic to him so she’ll just have to do things his way. The sweet combined scent of rosemary, lavender, and lemon wafts up to her, and curious, she dips her finger into the waxy mixture, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger.

Hook watches her intently and the tension in the air does not go unnoticed. It’s thick with uncertainty, full of unfamiliar silence and a wariness she isn’t used to from him. It makes her frown, the way he’s keeping her at arm’s length, as if he’s really not sure what to do or say.

She doesn’t blame him, how exactly are you supposed to behave when someone claims they’re from the future and is asking for your help to return to their time? Especially when they deceived you? (Not to mention kissed the hell out of you.)

Logically, she knows the distance is for the best. It’s not wise to get too attached to him, or he to her for that matter. But she misses Killian’s warmth, his steadiness, his constancy. The way he always gives her an encouraging look or smile whenever she happens to glance at him. There’s a certain level of comfort and intimacy that comes with knowing someone -- having... _feelings_ for someone -- for so long, and while that connection between her and Hook continues to exist even in this time, it’s still not quite the same.

“How’s your head?” Hook asks.

She doesn’t reply, too focused on her thoughts and too distracted by the application of the salve onto her wrists. She winces slightly when the magic tingles and sparks on her skin, drawing forth the pain as it begins to heal the abrasions. He moves quicker than she can anticipate, seemingly without thought, his hand wrapping gently around her arm.

“Here,” he says, setting his thumb against the scrapes and beginning to rub in slow, gentle circles to soothe the pain away. “Allow me.”

Her eyes are unwavering on him while he continues to massage her wrists, guilt clearly written on his face, and there it is again -- the bits of Killian that work their way through all of that Captain Hook facade, reminding her that despite who he was in this moment, who he was deep inside remains.

“Is there something on my face?” he wonders.

“What?”

“You’re staring.”

She can’t decide if he sounds pleased or irritated. There’s another round of silence that passes between them and Emma clears her throat in an attempt to fill it with something.

“Sorry,” she tells him. “And my head’s fine, just a bit sore.”

He releases his hold to cup the back of her neck, fingers questing to find the bump delivered by one of his crew to knock her unconscious and bring her back to him.

“My apologies,” he replies, voice quiet. “I’d told them to retrieve you by any means necessary. I should have been clear I’d meant unharmed.”

The gentle touch startles her, tilts her world off its axis as the tension in the room kicks up a notch. But before she can muse on it any further, she hisses again when he finally discovers the sore spot on her head. She grabs onto his wrist to stop his movements, and he frowns at her before easing his hand away.

He sighs heavily, eyes dark with shadows, and Emma wonders what sort of chastising his crew will receive. “There’s not much to do about that except allow time to heal it.”

“It’s fine,” she answers. Honestly, she’s not overly concerned about it, she can do the healing on her own when he leaves.

He contemplates her for a moment, eyes searching hers before he finally nods and offers to fetch her some sustenance. She’s not in the mood to eat so she declines, and he invites her to stay in his quarters for the duration of their trip to Agrabah.

“How long do we have?” she wonders.

“A few days. I’ll be in above deck should you need anything.”

She nods but utters not a word more as he departs.

\-----

Hook joins her for breakfast the next morning, according to the book, and Killian grumbles over it with his second cup of coffee. They’re not doing anything particularly _worrisome_ to warrant his grumbles, his mood is just sour because she is there with _him_ instead of _here_ with him.

If it were any other normal morning in Storybrooke (well, as normal as they can get), he’d likely have been up and waiting for her at Granny’s with her favored large to-go coffee ready, along with a paper bag holding one of those sugary bear claws she so adores. Instead, despite the familiar company, she’s having bread and cheese and a cup of tea for breakfast.

A few more paragraphs down and he notes that she decides to join Hook on deck that day, but avoids any direct interaction with him or his crew. She keeps to the bow of the ship, studying the endless ocean laid out before them, and occasionally leaning over the railing to peer down and watch the water splash up against the side of the ship.

The whole thing makes Killian ache.

He wishes to be at her side, to see the sun shining off her skin and the gold of her hair while she idles around the deck as the ship cuts across the water, to watch the smile spread slow and wide as she tips her head up towards the clear blue sky, to hear her quiet laughter in his ears as freely as feeling the ocean breeze on his skin. It’s an image of her he’s had for quite some time, a beacon of light in the darkness of the year they’d spent apart. Something he’s wanted for so long.

But circumstances are much different now, and he’ll never have the opportunity to see Emma abroad the Jolly Roger as Hook is now. He hates to admit it, but he finds himself rather jealous of his old self again.

\-----

In the evening, with the moon high in the sky and the crew settling down for the night, Emma can feel Hook’s ever watchful gaze on her from his place at the helm. She glances over her shoulder at him but can see very little of his expression, or his eyes for that matter, despite the soft glow of light cast by the moon and stars overhead. He is nothing more than a silhouette standing there, studying her in the darkness as she does him. 

She wonders if his thoughts echo hers, that she is just a shadow in the dimness.

The thing about shadows is that they never leave. As long as there’s some source of light, they stay with you.

The symbolism is not lost on her.

Hope can be a very powerful thing, she’s learned that better than anyone, and it’s something that she’s given it to him before -- with an offer to be a part of something, a kiss in jungles of Neverland, an answering reply of ‘ _Good_ ’ at the town line.

Maybe, before this is through, she’ll be able to give it to him again.

\-----

Time moves much more quickly in the book. Only a few hours have passed in their time, and the sun has set and risen several times over where Emma is. Hook is bolder on the second day of their journey to Agrabah, frequently joining her out on her place by the bow to make idle conversation. It makes Killian snort and shake his head while he continues to nurse his coffee.

It seems, no matter the time or the realm or the circumstance, he really never can resist the pull to her. The connection to Emma Swan is as constant and inevitable as the ebb and flow of the ocean waves against the shoreline.

When they begin to discuss the bean in further detail, Killian supposes the need for history to repeat itself (or in this case _start_ itself) is also inevitable. The irony is not lost on him that their past (technically first) adventure, still involves a quest, a magic bean, and a desire to return to Storybrooke.

\-----

It’s day three in the book and the 3 AM hour in present time when David returns from checking on Snow and the young prince, and Henry as well. Killian is scowling grumpily at the book, his cheeks flushed and the tips of his ears burning red from his temper. David pauses on the last few steps of the staircase, eyeing Killian warily.

“What’s wrong?”

\-----

Stupid, deceitful, underhanded... _pirate_.

She is _seething,_ her arms crossed over her chest while she glares at him as he rummages through a large, ornate chest in the corner of his quarters.

“You have got to be joking me.”

“Afraid not, darling,” he says casually -- almost _cheerfully_ for god’s sake -- as he begins to throw things out of the chest.

“This was not part of the plan! You said _we_ were going to steal it!”

“And _we_ are,” he replies, making some sort of triumphant noise then, standing from his kneeling position and turning to face her. There’s something bright red that he holds in his hand, and her gaze flickers back and forth between it and the grin on his face.

Something red that appears to be composed of very little material, and very, _very_ sheer.

His eyes dance mischievously. “You’ll just be a bit more in the center of the action, that’s all.”

\-----

“ _You made my daughter a concubine?_ ” David doesn’t shout, but it’s a near thing, and Killian winces at his tone.

“It wasn’t me!” he argues.

“I’m gonna kill him,” David mutters, tugging the book from the table and setting it in front of him as his eyes skim over the page.

Killian swears, low and foul, and reaches up to pinch at the bridge of his nose to relieve the headache building behind his eyes. Hook’s _brilliant_ plan to gain access to the palace and the treasure room that holds the bean is to secure Emma a place in the Sultan’s harem. In all honesty, under different circumstances, he wouldn’t consider it a _bad_ plan. But it’s not different circumstances, it’s _Emma_.

The place will be teeming with guards, and though he imagines that between the the two of them, they are more than capable of handling any problems that may arise (they do make quite the team after all, he would know), any endangerment of Emma’s life -- especially when _he_ is no where in the vicinity to help her -- still puts him very much on edge.

 _Oh_ , and alright, perhaps it’s driving him a bit mad, imagining Emma in that red get-up and knowing that his past self will have the pleasure of seeing her in it up close and personal. He remembers exactly which one it is too, and his pulse jumps at the image of her he conjures in his mind -- the contrast of red against the blonde of her hair and her pale, pale skin.

 _All of that skin_.

His fingers curl into his palm, making a fist, and he can feel the tension creep into his shoulders and the set of his jaw.

 _Bloody hell_.

He reads through Hook’s reactions to seeing Emma transformed in stride, face remaining impressively neutral despite the way it warms and jealously rises up inside of him like the tide.

\-----

Hook, unsurprisingly, has a copy of the palace layout in his quarters, but she is having a difficult time concentrating on memorizing it and comprehending his plan to acquire the bean, too distracted by the smokey timbre of his voice near her ear and the heat of him at her back as he leans over one of her shoulders while they study it together.

She feels exposed, _vulnerable_ , not just because of the outfit, but because of his nearness and the tug of undeniable attraction she has to him. He looks like Killian, he smells like him and feels like him, he sounds like him and smiles like him. The way he stares at her and says her name is just like Killian.

But he’s not him, and...she misses _him_. Maybe she’s just feeling a little nostalgic about this whole adventure with Hook, reminded of the sort of camaraderie she and Killian had built and the team they’d been on the beanstalk, and even in Neverland and Storybrooke after she’d returned from New York, and here in the the Enchanted Forest when they’d been working together to get home.

“This isn’t going to work if you’re not paying attention, darling.”

His breath blows warm against the shell of her ear and she is unable to control the shiver that works itself down her spine.

“Am I distracting you?”

She can hear the smile in his voice and it makes her roll her eyes as she turns her head to look at him. Her reply of, ‘ _Hardly_ ,’ gets stuck in her throat when she discovers how close he actually is, the tip of her nose just barely brushing against his.

His mouth falls open slightly, as if every thought has slipped from his mind and his breath is suddenly trapped in his lungs. She understands the feeling perfectly.

\-----

Absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the image on the next page when he had flipped to it.

Henry’s book appears hellbent on torturing him further, including a page-sized photo of Emma standing before the Sultan in that red outfit, the finest jewels aboard the Jolly Roger adorning her skin -- bracelets on her wrists, dangling gems at her ears, a string of gold woven through the hair swept up and piled high at the top of her head.

The necklace that hangs just above the swell of her breasts.

He swears again, hand running agitatedly through his hair, and he nearly shuts the book close to throw it against the wall. When David makes a grab for it, he dutifully keeps it from the Prince’s reach.

“ _Mate_ ,” he warns. “Trust me. You don’t want to do that.”

There’s a beat of silence that passes between them, David’s narrowed gaze focused on Killian. Something flickers into his eyes, perhaps some sort of understanding, and he repeats his earlier sentiment.

“I’m gonna him,” David says, voice both frighteningly calm and deadly serious all at once.

Truthfully, Killian would like nothing more than to hand him the sword.

He shoves the book roughly across the table towards David. “It’s your turn,” he snaps, voice gruff.

“Where are you going?”

“I need a bloody drink.”

“It’s four in the morning.”

“ _Oooh_ ,” he chuckles. “Believe me, you’ll want one too.”

(David stares after him, afraid to ask.)

\-----

There are few women in this land that look like her, so it’s no surprise, then, how easy it is for her to get noticed by all of the right people. Within hours of docking, Emma is walking through the palace gates and meeting with the Sultan. She turns on the charm, as she used to do when she’d been hunting skips for a living instead of saving the world and falling through time portals and screwing with the past.

Hook is nowhere in sight, but she knows he’s close by somewhere. Somehow. It’s a small bit of comfort to know that, especially whenever the Sultan strokes his beady eyes over her and gives her a lecherous grin.

He takes a deep interest in her immediately -- probably considers her his shiny, new toy -- and it’s just her luck that he has ‘official matters’ to see to and can only entertain her for so long. She has no doubt that he’ll be by to ‘visit’ with her later, though, so she has to secure the bean tonight.

She is whisked off to a private chamber immediately, pampered with a bath then having sweet smelling oil rubbed into her skin. Her hair is brushed to a silken texture and left down to spill around her shoulders, probably at the Sultan’s request. It’s great and all, but she is under no illusions, everything they are doing is to prepare her for him, and while it makes bile rise up in her throat, she’s thankful that they’ve at least given her a room in the same corridor as the treasure room.

It makes her job easier, that’s for sure, but she’s still got a hallway full of guards to worry about. Twelve of them to be exact, positioned throughout this wing. Hook had told her not to worry about the details, to leave them up to him -- “ _Try something new, darling, it’s called ‘trust.’_ ” _\--_ and that her only job was to get into the treasure room and out of it with the bean without getting caught once he’d given her the signal.

His words do nothing to ease her growing restlessness and anxiety while she waits and paces in her room, particularly since he hadn’t even told her what the signal would be and-

The commotion beyond the door immediately draws her attention. She races towards it, pressing her ear up against the wood. Shouts and the pounding of hurried feet are muffled to her ears but instinctively she knows that whatever is happening to draw the guards away from her wing, it’s Hook’s doing, and if she’s going to make her move, it has to be _now_.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Happy (super belated) Birthday to one of my best friends, Carrie, the biggest Captain Wench fan I know. Also, huge thanks to Sarah who provided the inspiration for this little adventure. Love you ladies so much! Xx


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